Unified Daymons Convention
by Mjrn
Summary: What happens when The Black Jewels Trilogy and The Vampire Diaries are combined? A Daymon convention, of course! Not all the invitees are as wonderful as Daemon and Damon...Please R&Rit's not as stupid as it sounds.


Disclaimer: Daemon belongs to Anne Bishop of the BJT, Damon belongs to L.J. Smith, and Deymon and Daymon belong to Andrea (Mjrn) and Brandy (ilfirinmorcath) (and we're not proud of it).

Authors' Note: It's 6 A.M. here in California; Good Morning America. We've been working on this story since 3 this morning, so you better like it and review (and forgive us if there are any mistakes or anything like that). We both (Mjrn and ilfirinmorcath) have written this story out of our own creativity and insanity. If you have problems with our story, just keep in mind the time of morning.

The banner was waving over the recreation hall: "Daymon Convention." Daemon entered the room through the back doors of the auditorium, muttering, "Mother Night," under his breath. The broad hall was completely vacant of all people. Daemon approached the lonely refreshment stand. He poured himself a cup of punch, and piled cookies on his plate. "Okay, so where are the nut cakes?"

Damon sauntered up the steps to the front doors. He glanced at the banner and narrowed his eyes. He walked in. There was only one other "Daymon" in the room standing by the punch bowl. "Is that any good?"

"Mediocre," replied the Daymon.

"Are we the only Damons around?"

"No, we're the only _Daemons _around."

Brandy and Andrea snapped, "No, you're the only _Daymons _around."

But then another Daymon crawled through the window. When Daemon saw this, he tilted his head to one side, and Damon squinted at him, questioningly. The Daymon shrugged after straightening his gray coat. "I couldn't find the door."

Daemon glanced toward the back of the room. "I came in through the back."

Damon simply pointed at the front doors. "Those are the front doors over there."

The new Daymon nodded slowly. "Thanks. I'll remember that for when I'm leaving. So, what're your names?"

Daemon and Damon exchanged glances and sneered at him. "Check the sign, moron."

"But…my name is spelled D-E-Y-"

"Yeah, yeah, the authors say we're Daymons."

"Oh. So what were you two Daymons doing?"

Daemon shrugged. "I was telling Damon about the punch."

Deymon gladly stepped forward and grabbed a drink. Taking a swig of punch, he said, "Yep, that sure is tasty."

Daemon nodded. "Right. Are you sure you belong at this convention?"

"Well, not really cuz the sign says--"

"--I know what the sign says, thank you. I can read."

"oKAY."

"Right."

"So where's the director?"

Daemon shrugged. "Well, because I haven't seen anyone else hanging around, I decided to self-appoint…myself…to the position of dictator of this convention. Anyone disagree?" Damon settled himself against the wall and watched them disinterestedly. "Okay, good. So, the first line of business is…where do you all come from?" He took a quick breath and then said, "I'm from Hayll--originally. But I've traveled quite often. For example, I met my wife in Chaillot…of course, she was just a little girl at the time." Damon raised his eyebrows. Deymon licked his lips. Daemon continued. "Then I moved to this little island I used as a get-away from Dorothea, because we all know what kind of bitch she is. Well, after that, I went to live in Kaeleer. It was actually quite lovely, lots of trees and such." He paused. "Moving on to the next question."

Deymon raised his hand.

Daemon ignored Deymon's hand. "So I thought it would be interesting to hear about what you all have to say about your significant others." Damon growled, and Daemon continued without hesitating. "For me, my significant other is Jaenelle. She's sweet and nice and all that, but I have a few things to say that nobody else knows and it's so hard not to tell anyone because it just bothers me so much. First of all, she made me quit smoking--and we all know how _that _went. And then the animals. I cannot go _anywhere _without hair on my outfit. It's disgusting."

"Uh, excuse--"

"Anyway, she can downright be a bitch sometimes. I have never encountered a woman who could nag so much. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to Dorothea. Jaenelle makes her seem like an angel. And--"

"My brother took mine. You offer the girl the world and she just rips your heart out," murmured Damon. "You would not _believe _the Power I offered her. Queen of Darkness and everything."

"That brings me to my next point. I thought Jaenelle was going to be something great, _my _Queen of the Darkness. But all she cares about is her dad--no, her papa--_my _dad.--Not that I am jealous of my own father or anything…"

"Hel-"

"Elena was that close, too, and I mean _that _close. Book Three, she was all ready to say yes, and _boom_! My stupid little brother pulls his Romeo act. Do you know how pathetic he is? He still sucks his thumb.   
Wait until she sees that one. She'll be thrilled."

"And when she isn't worrying about that old geezer, she's preoccupied with my little brother."

"Amen!" Damon shouted.

"You know, if I wasn't so hot, I would say she was attracted to him. But of course, he doesn't look half as good as me."

"Maybe she likes the thumb-sucking," Damon murmured to himself, "because _I'm_ hot. Too hot."

"Not that I care…I mean, the more she pursues him, the less nagging I hear and the more nagging he hears. You know, Marian is kind of sexy."

"True, I am hot. But I am also so cool." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Hmm. I'm a temperature dilemma."

"It is a little stuffy in here--"

"Yet, she does quite a bit of nagging, too. And she throws pots. Don't want to cross her twice. Well, Surreal doesn't do that--and I bet she can almost match me in bed. Well, almost. No one adds up to the Sadist."

"Hey," Deymon chuckled, "how many hookers does it take--"

Daemon stopped and glared at him. "You don't want to finish that sentence."

"But it's really funny--"

"No." Daemon shifted his weight to the other leg. "Let's change gears now. So, no one answered my first question. From where did you come? I come from Hayll; that's why my name is spelled that way."

"Italy. Also why my name is spelled that way."

"I--"

"So, killed anyone lately?"

"WHAT!?" Deymon asked.

"Yeah," Damon said, "breakfast. Vampire's gotta eat."

"You mean suck. Vampire's gotta--"

Damon reached out and strangled Deymon.

"As the dictator of the Unified Daemon's Convention, I am going to have to ask you two to stop…please. I really won't ask again. Daemons, attention!"

Brandy and Andrea yelled, "No, it's Daymons!"

Deymon looked around. "Who said that? Did you Deymons hear that? God, is that You?"

"Ignoring the previous statement, I would like everyone's attention. Look up here," said Daemon, as he stood up on the small platform. "You're not looking at me. I'm right here. Okay, there we go. The next topic of our discussion--being as the last one caused the Other One to lash out at the unsuspecting Damon--" Damon grinned as Deymon looked around, "will be why we are here. Please be brief. So I will start off. I am here because I had a feeling that this convention of Unified…Daymons….required a party planner, so I decided I'd just stop by to get things going accordingly. The second reason why I am here is because Jaenelle is on the rag right now and locked me out of the damn house. And the third reason why I am here…"

"I'M HERE," Deymon said in an obnoxiously loud voice, "BECAUSE I THOUGHT--"

"When I require your opinion, I will give it to you. As I was saying…" And Daemon went all the way to Reason # 7. "The last reason why I am here has to do with a letter I received by two crazy girls, the authors, that beckoned me to show up and show all the Daymons out there what it means to be a Daemon."

"Besides receiving same said letter, I came today for--for--" Damon shook his head. "Group therapy."

"Oh, and that was my eighth point."

Deymon burst into tears loudly. "Wait until you hear my story."

Daemon gave him a sideways glance and then rolled his eyes. "I've got one thousand seven hundred years of misery and woe that you can't even imagine."

"My life is the stuff of nightmares," Damon hissed.

"Woe is me!" Deymon cried out repeatedly. He tore out a chunk of his hair in anguish. "Now I'm bald too!"

Daemon turned to Damon. "Let's initiate the therapy, then, shall we? Where do I start?"

"A love triangle of unspeakable horror," Damon whispered with wide eyes.

"Oh, Mother Night, not another damn triangle. It disturbs me so much I cannot speak of it. It started on the day that Tersa--that's my mother who is in Absentia and has been that way since I was a thousand years old because she just had to weave a stupid web--told me about the four sided triangle. I still don't see four sides."

"We could have four sides if Bonnie jumped in. That would complicate things," Damon added to himself.

"No, you wouldn't want four sides. It sucks. Listen to an expert." Daemon sighed.

"Don't four sides defeat the purpose of a triangle…?" asked Deymon quietly.

"No Deymon," Damon said, "all triangles have four sides. They must have taught you wrong."

"OH THE WORLD IS ENDING!" Deymon cried out as he fell to his knees. "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

"Now you know something," Damon responded promptly.

"Let's get past the four sided triangle. It still haunts me. So where else should I start?"

"You never stopped," Damon said dryly.

"Of course I stopped. I stopped long enough to catch my breath."

"Are you sure? I think you've turned purple."

Daemon paled. "Really? You think so? Does that make me look better or worse?"

Damon grinned. "Let's just say they are going to start calling me Daymon #1."

Daemon cleared his throat. "It'll take more than a purple face for that to happen, young grasshopper."

"That is a matter of opinion. Most people prefer the vampire type. As opposed to the…whatever you are…type."

"Excuse me, I am Hayllian. That's my type. And I'm sure my face isn't purple anymore because I waited a few minutes before continuing."

"I never even noticed."

"You just aren't observant."

Deymon climbed up on the platform and pounded on the podium with a spoon. "Let's start the direction. I say we should all play Simple Simon. I'll be Simple, and you can be Simons."

Even Daemon looked speechless for a minute.

Damon frowned. "You mean Simon _Says_?"

Deymon said nothing. Neither did Daemon. "Jesus," Damon muttered.

After a few long minutes, Daemon finally said, "Is my face normal color yet?"

"You've been quiet for way too long; now you are pure white."

"But I wanted _some _coloring." He paused. "Son, are you going to step away for the Dictator's Podium or am I going to have to give Damon permission to remove you?" Damon cracked his knuckles.

Brandy and Andrea cheered.

Damon smiled. "Ladies, ladies. There's enough for two."

Deymon's eyes darted around the room quickly. "There're girls here?"

"Hands off," Damon and Daemon said. "They're the Creators."

"Oooooooh." Deymon thought a minute. "Uh, thanks for Creating me."

"Pathetic," someone murmured from Beyond the Frame of the Story.

"Anyways," said Daemon lightly, as he returned to the Podium. Resting both hands on the podium, be breathed out a sigh of relief. "It's been a while."

"Not nearly long enough," Damon said under his breath. "Deymon, why don't you go play Simple Simon by yourself and let the adults talk."

"Yes, clearly our thoughts are too deep for you."

"If our thoughts were measured by water, ours would be oceans and yours would be a drop. A tiny, insignificant drop."

"So, if you please step outside…"

Deymon lifted his leg over the windowsill.

"Um, son, what the Hell are you doing?"

"Yes, stupid, what are you doing? Door--that way." Damon glanced at Daemon. "Or that way."

"Or is the concept of a door too deep for you?"

Both laughed maliciously. "It's wonderful to finally meet one of the Brotherhood of Aristocrats."

"Yes, I never thought it would be this great."

"Well," Damon said with a sigh, "I feel like a snack."

"Oh boy," Deymon said excitedly.

"Can you believe there are no nut cakes? They seemed to have forgotten to put them out."

"Really, I don't understand it. Service these days."

Daemon looked around. "So what are we going to do about lunch?"

"There are lots of great spots around. Let's have a bite." He began to laugh. "Ah, I crack myself up," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Are we all arrived yet?" asked a man with a husky voice as he entered through the side door. "How are we Daymons today?"

"Oh, so you are the idiot who spelled all our names wrong," Damon said with a glare.

"Yeah, wrong," Deymon said. "R-O-N-J."

"Yeah, who was the fool who invited him?"

Daemon stared in awe at this new addition to his Unified Daymon Convention. "You…you aren't the director of this convention, are you?"

"Of course I am."

Daemon turned to Damon. "Where were we in our group therapy discussion? I have a new addition to my grievances."

"Triangles," Damon said as he leaned against the wall.

"Triangles? Grievances? Group therapy? R-O-N-J? What is going on here?" demanded Daymon.

"More than you can ever believe," Damon answered as he shook his head. "Daemon, why don't we take Deymon outside on our way to lunch and use Power to make him think he is a rabid squirrel?"

Daemon just grinned. "Shall we go, Deymon?"

"Cool!" he said. "I always wanted best friends!"

"Riiight," Damon and Daemon said as they exchanged smiles.


End file.
